


never as good as it gets

by harborshore



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 22:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2042901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harborshore/pseuds/harborshore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan Toews doesn't like compliments. 5+1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	never as good as it gets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jukeboxghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jukeboxghost/gifts).



> For jukeboxghost on her birthday, because she is my favorite and because my getting into hockey fandom will forever be her fault. 
> 
> This is rather shamelessly made up, with some cursory attention being paid to reality (and Jonathan Toews' hilarious interviews when he tries very hard not to be complimented). The title is from "Non Typical" by Chuck Ragan, because Chuck.

1\. 

It becomes a joke, fairly quickly. Put Jonathan Toews in a room with a journalist saying something nice about him, specifically, and you’ll get to see him squirming like a worm on a hook, changing the subject as quickly as he can or, as Seabs puts it, talking about the “boys and how great we all are, aw, Tazer, tell me I’m a rock some more”. As much as they all make fun of him and Kaner for being the golden boys, it’s pretty obvious Jonny likes the teasing better than the admiration. Even if he does have the temper from hell and Sharpy gets to him way too easily.

They make a game of that for a while, too. Taking bets on how quickly Jonny will change the subject when someone compliments him, or on how many nice things he can say about Kaner in an interview in reply to a question about his own game, or how long he can go on about the Hawks and how good they are as a team (and how little of their success can be attributed to him). 

2.

It only gets worse after the first Olympics and the first glorious Cup run. Tazer blithely skates over anything positive about him and talks about how he wants to win something _with_ Kaner as opposed to when playing against him, and after they do win, he talks about Kaner’s magical goal and evades questions about his own Conn Smythe as best he can. Sharpy finds it all hilarious, but he hasn’t yet come up with the best way to demonstrate to Captain Serious that his humility is getting ridiculous.

“You could just learn to take a fucking compliment,” Kaner says once after an interview, something warm in his voice. It’s summer, a week before the convention. They’ve been recording together and Sharpy’s getting ready for his turn, listening to them.

“Huh?” says Jonny, who’s busy taking off his tie. 

“A compliment,” Kaner repeats. “Learn to take it.”

Sharpy nobly refrains from a joke about Tazer “taking it” from Kaner. 

“Eh,” Jonny says, shrugging, clearly dismissing it.

“No, really,” Kaner says. “You earned your Conn Smythe, don’t be an ass.”

“You scored the winning goal,” Jonny says, and Sharpy, who is about to fall in with something suitably teasing falls silent at the fond look on Jonny’s face. 

“Shut up,” Kaner says, and he’s smiling right back at Jonny.“You got us there.”

Now, perhaps, would be a good time to interrupt. “Yeah, yeah, if we’re all done pumping each others’ tires,” he says, getting in between them. “Should I be worried about doing my own interview? Will they throw me out if I don’t sing Seabsie’s praises or something, or call Burish a hockey god?” He should definitely do the latter, just for amusement’s sake. It'll make Burish smile, even in that hellhole he was traded to. Fucking Dallas.

“Sharpy, they’re gonna throw you out anyway,” Kaner says, grinning up at him. “Who wants to hear what you have to say, seriously.”

Tazer snorts, easy for Kaner as always. If Sharpy’s wondering now just how easy he is for Kaner, well, he’s gonna keep that to himself.

3\. 

The Canadian Tire commercial is the worst. It’s the best, of course, because getting everyone together like that, man. Jonny can’t really deal with seeing them all in the same room, all the pieces of his early life, everyone who got him where he is today.

But when he comes out and sees them, and they cheer, fuck. He should be cheering for them. So he hides his face, an involuntary reaction, and just knows he’s going to catch hell for it later. 

4.

“You fucking did it,” he yells, when Kaner holds up the Conn Smythe trophy to him, and wonders at how weird their life is, when a dream he had turns out true like that. Of course, it’s as much wishing as dreaming, probably, but still. 

“Way to step up big,” Kaner yells in his ear later, eyes brimming with tears. They’re both drunk as fuck and so Jonny can take it, hugs Kaner back just as hard and revels in it, this moment when they’ve both – they’ve _all_ done as well as they can and they have what they want. 

5.

The Cup that almost was has Jonny running away for a while, two weeks in the wilderness by himself and a number of weeks getting much drunker than he usually does with friends and assorted acquaintances.

Kaner calls him up once. “I like the pink tanktop,” he says. “But if you get sick of drowning your sorrows, you should come out for a weekend, we could hang out on the lake.”

“Your lake is stupid,” Jonny says, and, because he can’t resist, “it’s not even _your_ lake.” 

Kaner snorts. “Yeah, because you’ve been to yours so many times. Doesn’t it take, like, a helicopter to get there?” 

Yes, yes it does. Jonny chooses not to answer that. “I’m not drowning my sorrows,” he says instead. “I’m just, like. Having fun before it all starts again.”

There’s a pause, and when Kaner starts talking again he sounds serious, much more serious than he usually does. “You did good, Jonny. We didn’t miss the finals because you weren’t playing hard enough. You did _good_.” 

Jonny’s mouth is dry. “Whatever,” he says. He’d been in the best shape he’s ever been in all spring. It should have been enough.

“We just didn’t get there this time,” Kaner says, intent. “Get Teuvo up and get the rest of the kids some more routine, and we’ll do it again. You know we will.”

“You’d rather play with Teuvo than me?” Jonny says, trying to get a little levity into the conversation. 

Kaner laughs. “I’d always rather play with you,” he says, and god, Jonny will never ever admit how much he likes hearing that. “But we win as a team, and next season’s gonna be good, I can feel it.”

"Yeah, okay," Jonny says.

"Come out," Kaner says, voice a little softer. "I want to see you."

Jonny coughs, because he hasn't heard that tone of voice in a long time. Does he--"You mean you like me? What are we going to do if the bloggers get a hold of this one, they've all decided you secretly hate me this week."

"Shut up," Kaner says, and Jonny can hear him smiling. "You know I like you best, Jonny, I always have.

"Okay," Jonny says, and it's a yes to coming out to the lake and a yes to the question Kaner carefully isn't asking and maybe this is a compliment he can take, after all.

+1

“You’re so good,” Kaner says above him, and Jonny twists to hide his face in the pillow. “So good, fuck, Jonny, open up for me.” His fingers are blunt, pushing in (Kaner’s fucking _hands_ ) and Jonny can’t breathe. 

“Gorgeous,” Kaner murmurs, “so gorgeous, so good, so fucking good,” and Jonny fights to take it, to stay where Kaner put him and listen, because that’s what Kaner asked for tonight, and he can give it to him. He can.

“I’ve got you,” Kaner says, and he does. He always does. He takes Jonny through coming and through getting fucked, sensitive and sore and so fucking good, Kaner tells him so, and he keeps him there, right there, where he has to listen.

"You're _mine_ ," he says at last, voice low and sure and Jonny's shaking, but he can take it. He can. Kaner's got him.


End file.
